


Shades of the Tempest

by artlessICTOAN



Series: Stories of the Sands [1]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Angst, Canon Universe, Canon-Typical Violence, Character Study, Child Neglect, Drabble Collection, Family, Fluff, Friendship/Love, Gen, Implied Relationships, Temari-centric, War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-23
Updated: 2017-08-29
Packaged: 2018-12-19 01:56:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 7,201
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11887485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/artlessICTOAN/pseuds/artlessICTOAN
Summary: A collection of drabbles for Temari Week, exploring the life of our favourite Suna kunoichi!





	1. The heart of the Sand

**Author's Note:**

> Day 1 - The heart of the Sand! [make one of your favourite temari moments or try to represent her importance in Sunakagure]  
> since I didn't want to just rewrite an existing scene, I went with the latter option! it ended up a little more sand sibs than _just_ tema, but honestly it’s so hard to unravel them in my mind that it was kinda inevitable ~~though my kazekage tema bias is definitely showing~~  
>  Hope you enjoy!

\---

Day 1 - The heart of the Sand

\---

For many years now, it had been understood in Suna, that they did not have a Kazekage.

Oh, there was certainly a person who held that title, who would take on the roles associated with it, to deal with other nations and the wind Daimyo’s court, but, within those great city walls, everyone knew that it meant nothing.

They didn’t have _a_ Kazekage; they had three.

When Gaara had ascended to power, it wasn’t because he was the most powerful ninja in the village – though he certainly was that – it wasn’t because of bloodline, it wasn’t even out of fear of his wrath. It was because he’d made it clear that he would _not_ be working alone, and the two always at his side would not be sitting idly on the sidelines, as he ruled his city with an iron fist. With all three siblings working together, as a single cohesive unit, the best that the land of wind had ever produced, Sunagakure would thrive.

Gaara was content to be the figurehead, the soul; a symbol of Sunagakure’s mistakes, its bloody past, but also the hope for change and growth. He would be a light for his people to follow, someone strong enough to support them through that messy, dangerous process and the one they could trust to protect them from the dangers of a hostile world.

His brother was the human face, far more personable than either of his siblings, he could often be found wandering the streets, relating to the people’s issues – no matter the background, big or small, he would _listen_ and support the best he could – Kankuro’s warmth and approachability kept them all grounded, remind the governmental leaders of the human cost of all their decisions, someone who would fight for their wellbeing, no matter the opposition.

And Temari… she was the beating pulse and calculating mind; while Gaara had the final say on matters of state, his sister was his most trusted advisor, her wisdom moderated his idealism, her compassion soothed his detachment, her cunning directed his inexperience in the political games of the council and court. She was the strong foundation for Suna’s entire government, the one person who was trusted to make the system _work_ , she carried the weight of the city on her broad, strong shoulders and, in turn, her brothers supported her, their love and faith in their older sister forever unshakable.

Without her guiding hand, none of it would work and all who lived in Sunagakure knew it; she was respected, she was feared and she was _loved_ by her people, and she repaid those feelings in turn.

Sometimes she liked to imagine her mother watching how far she’d come, and smiling.

\---


	2. Childhood Memories

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 2 - Childhood memories  
> this gets a little dark I guess? not _super_ dark, but anything that delves into any of the sibs’ childhoods is bound to be pretty upsetting, though it’s a real shame we never got to find out very much about kank and tema growing up, I still think there’s a lot to explore there and their histories must’ve been just as rough as gaa’s tbh

\---

Day 2 - Childhood memories

\---

Her hands shook as she packed the dirt ever firmer around the base of the bush.

Every gentle tap burned against her blistered skin – handling the war fan recently gifted to her by her father was taking its toll on her palms, her once smooth skin in the process of hardening into thick, protective calluses – and her arms were already aching from a long day of training; not at all aided by the hour she’d already spent forcefully pulling up weeds and digging through the dry, clay-heavy soil of the garden.

But, it wasn’t her physical exhaustion that had left her hands clumsy and trembling. It was the sight still painted across her eyeballs in harsh, vivid colours, of a tiny little boy, screaming and wrenching at his own red hair, either unaware of the sand that had stabbed straight through a civilian woman’s abdomen, or uncaring.

She had only stared for a brief second, before turning and fleeing, but still, the scene lingered.

Closing her eyes hadn’t helped, only enriched the image – black backdrop bringing out the bright red of blood spilling out onto sand, looking almost artificial in its vividness, the paleness of the poor woman’s skin – so she’d gone to the only place she knew that might obscure those awful, horrifying colours.

The garden of her house wasn’t huge, but it was filled with every kind of plant that thrived in the desert; all the many beautiful shades of green of cacti and thorny bushes, and flowers that bloomed yellow and purple and orange and pink…

Her mother had been the one to plant most everything here, a small luxury in such an impoverished nation, but one that she’d persevered with regardless. Temari wished she could say that her mother’s love of gardening had been passed down to her, that, even after her death, she performed this task with kind words and gentle guidance ringing in her ears, but she hadn’t; any memories of those times were distant, hazy, almost unreal to her now.

Perhaps, at one time, a messy-haired girl might’ve watched as a beautiful woman tended to her flowers, maybe she sang as she worked, maybe tiny, untrained hands would grasp at dirt, prick themselves against a sharp thorn, be kissed by warm, loving lips.

But that was just wishful fantasy.

The _real_ reason she’d taken it upon herself to continue nurturing their garden – neatly tucked away behind the high, stone walls of the Kazekage estate – was duty.

After her mother’s death, much had been neglected, herself and her brother especially; left to look after themselves, a retinue of nameless, faceless servants and caretakers cycling through jobs, too fast to ever build any real attachment to them. Until it was realised that the two siblings had become mostly self-sufficient, after that, only the occasional cook or cleaner traipsed the long, suffocating halls of the mansion.

She’d become the mother that she knew her little brother had needed, she would care for him and shielded him from the drastic changes happening around them, as best she could.

Her father had become so entrenched in his work, that they could go weeks without ever seeing him – and when they did, it was only to observe their training, or ensure that they had everything they needed, none of the games and interest she saw from other fathers in the city. He barely seemed human anymore, more like one of Kankuro’s puppets, wordless and stiff, performing the tasks required of him, but any spark of life almost completely extinguished.

She cupped those dying embers between her toughening hands, kept them burning just a little longer, seeking him out, asking about his day, demonstrating the techniques she’d mastered with pride, if only to bring those small, satisfied not-quite-smiles to his face.

The garden that had been her mother’s pride and joy, almost as much a part of her family as her own children, had wilted and decayed over the months since her death. What was once a bright, beautiful oasis in a world that could be so very harsh, had become a dull, withered mess, a mocking shadow of what it had once represented.

She had found the gardening books, long buried under old boxes and thick dust, studied the art with the same dedication she was expected to put into ninjutsu, and gradually dragged the garden away from the claws of deterioration, dirt under her nails, rusted tools staining her palms and teeth gritted tight.

Unlike her father and brothers, this was the one part of her mother’s legacy she actually had the power to fix, _improve_ ; not just maintain.

It was that thought that keep her driven, despite all the pain, frustration and indifference from her family and tutors. So, she would dig tired, aching hands into the earth, pluck persistent, intrusive weeds, ignore the scratches trailing up her arms, bear the heat lashing against her spine and bring the beauty back to this place.

And perhaps then, she would be able to forget the haunting sights and nightmarish screams. Pretend that there wasn’t any guilt constantly pressing at the back of her skull.

Perhaps if she could save this tiny part of her past, then the parts that she _couldn’t_ , wouldn’t matter.

\---


	3. Family

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this one is uh.. Very different to the previous chaps (and almost certainly the following ones too) but it was a really fun experiment anyway ~~though I am really not fit to write in this tense jfc~~ warning for violence and some _very_ lightly implied sexual content  
>  I played with the sibs’ canon ages just a tad, bc kishi apparently doesn’t know how either time, pregnancy, or both actually work ~~probably both~~ in this tema is a year older than in canon, so she was around 2 when kank was born and 5 when gaa was born  
>  (also I’m going super un-canon here with the ending, bc I will always be bitter, sorry bout that)  
> Enjoy!

\---

Day 3 – Family

\---

Age two and there is so much she can’t even comprehend.

A thick, inexperienced tongue trips around familiar sounds, meanings known, but still new and _terrifying_ , the words echoed back encouraging her to try more and more; the bright colours and bold shapes that had once entertained her, now need to be put into order and pattern, a task that gave her more fulfilment than simply drumming them against walls and floors ever could; sensations are huge and overwhelming, but, unable to share them, all she can do is cry and flail and wait for someone to come with shushing noises and gentle hands.

Family is a word she still cannot say, but she knows that it is found in the enfolding warmth of soft arms, the deep rumble of a laugh that shudders her whole body, the comforting pressure stroking down her short, fluffy hair.

\---

Age four and she finds herself for the first time the bearer of knowledge, instead of the seeker.

Her words and thoughts are big, rushing, _important_ and she’s found a captive audience in the soft, mushy potato-boy that her mother calls ‘Kankuro’, he sits and stares with wide, dark eyes, his mouth open, giggling, as she tells him all the things he needs to know; the best foods, how to play with his toys _properly_ , her grand stories played out with stuffed animals, everything she’s decided about how the stars and the sky and the land itself came to be.

Family isn’t just parents, she suddenly understands, it is also a baby brother – who can’t talk and flaps his arms whenever he sees her, but pushes her away when she tries to pick him up – it’s being looked up to and it’s caring for someone else, the same way that she’d always been cared for.

\---

Age five and she is just beginning to realise that everything she’d thought she’d known, was wrong.

The cold press of metal in her palm is heavy, it makes her whole arm ache and her fingers don’t quite encircle the handle of the kunai, when she throws it, it never quite reaches the post; she’s no longer allowed to play as she once did, so instead she follows the servants around the house, watching them perform tasks that she’d never had to consider before; father hasn’t shown himself in a long time, he doesn’t come into her room to kiss her goodnight anymore, neither does her mother, nor the scary old lady who sends her to bed now. She understands that her mother is gone, that she’s never coming back, but that knowledge isn’t quite enough to smother the way her heart beats at the sight of golden brown, or deep, calm, indigo blue.

Family is not an unbreakable force, as she’d always assumed, it is long, lonely nights and heavy expectations and eyes that no longer light up at her smile alone. She sneaks into Kankuro’s room at night to kiss his forehead anyway, wiping away the tears that drop onto his puffy cheeks before he wakes.

\---

Age seven and information is quickly becoming her most trusted ally.

Feelings and thoughts are confusing, unreliable, but facts are solid, they _mean_ something. Recently enrolled into the academy, her days are filled with reading, writing and training, skills that she has talent for, skills that she basks in, her teacher’s praise pushes her to read more, write more, train harder, push herself past her peers, because she is the Kazekage’s daughter and only _now_ does she understand what that represents.

Family is the satisfied nod when her kunai hits dead centre, the recital of the bloodline that built this nation, it’s the knowledge that she will further this legacy, or her life will have been worthless.

\---

Age ten and not even fear can break her.

Murder is so common, that she no longer feels her eyes water and throat constrict when it happens; the sound of a massacre in the streets filters in through the window, she mentally recites the ninja code and finishes her dinner; a corpse is splattered across the hall, she steps over chunks on her way to the bathroom; her friend is crushed before her eyes, she refuses to turn away; her father informs her that, one day soon, she will be put on a team with her two brothers, she nods and doesn’t let the rage leak out, not until she is alone in the desert, hurling her rough, unpractised wind jutsu at a great rock formation, until it disintegrates into sand.

Family is being constantly alert and always restrained, by her father, by her brothers, by her tutors, by the public. Family is the knife she must always have ready to strike at a back.

\---

Age fifteen and she knows what she must do.

Konoha is an alien land, with so many things to catch the eye, intrigue the mind, but she has no such luxury, her gaze must remain intent on their mission, because if they fail, then there will be nothing to return to. Her home is crumbling and her family is long dead, but she will dig her sharp talons into their decaying carcasses and fight off the circling scavengers regardless; when one has so little to fight for, the scraps of an old life are more valuable than gold.

Family is doing what the village needs, no matter her personal doubts, it is destroying herself, to preserve others.

\---

Age sixteen and she realises that she has failed as a legacy, as a protector.

Her father’s face is empty, his eyes closed, skin pale; she wants to feel something as heavy stone closes the sight off for good, and the coffin is lowered into the sand, but her eyes are dry and her voice doesn’t shake when she speaks to the mourners. She does not mourn, for she already knows that her father had died years before, instead, she holds Kankuro’s hand as he screams in his room, restraining him from destroying his life’s work, instead, she watches, cautious, as Gaara struggles with words he’d never been taught, the uneasy ways he navigated this terrifying new world that he’d been kept from his entire life.

Family is the emptiness of losing a father who never was, it’s soothing the rage of someone who’d never accepted it, and nurturing the feeble hope of a boy who needed to learn what it meant.

\---

Age nineteen and, for the first time in years, she has no plan.

Her brother lies panting on a small, featureless bed, his too-long legs spilling over the end. She has watched him for hours now, but still, she gets up once again to place a cool finger to his neck; the slow, steady thud against her skin does nothing to comfort her, nor does the faint, bitter smell of medicine, dust and fresh sweat as she presses trembling lips to his forehead, muffling her haggard sobs there. Somewhere, another brother is lying, helpless, probably in pain, probably _dying_ … and she cannot be there to kiss him goodnight.

Family is the pain of knowing her life will never, ever be worth theirs, and that she would burn the world a thousand times over, just to get her hollow, tattered, broken imitation of a family back, if only to embrace it one last time.

\---

Age twenty-two and she is late to exploring intimacy.

Kisses are harsh and hurried, all grabbing hands and pulling hair and biting lips and frantic gasps; Shikamaru frowns at her roughness and impatience, he pushes her back with calm understanding, but honest rejection; he does not have what she needs, and she cannot accept what he wants, she always knew nothing would come of it, but the loss still aches. Her digging nails are ignored as she pulls Tenten down to kiss her, the warmth of sympathetic arms and an open heart burns her, but she stays anyway, wanting to experience what it is she’s been missing.

Family is the faint desire for something undefinable – so long suppressed under duty and fear – but seeing clearly that she will never _truly_ reach it. It is returning to Suna with a great void in her heart, and the warm hands on her shoulders, the tiny smile and wide grin that welcome her home, the unspoken promise to never leave her.

\---

Age thirty and she needs to learn, swiftly.

She’d never expected children to become a part of her life, never _wanted_ them to, but her brother has always been so much braver than her, so when he brings three young wards into the only home the siblings had ever known, she does not object. She will not be a mother, but the possibilities of aunthood intrigue her; memories of the man with her sandy-blond hair and her mother’s gentle, dark eyes are vague, but echoing the past would only repeat it, so she decides to discover for herself how to care for, teach and _cherish_ the three children who fill her with both terror and hope, in equal measure.

Family is growth and expansion, the young boy with the blank face, who needed guidance to find the happiness he deserved, the scarred boy, who sought only love and companionship, the girl who wanted to lash out at a harsh world, but whose anger and fear could be soothed with careful words. These children would never have to struggle to find the definition, like _she_ always had.

\---

Age Eighty-eight and she is wise enough to know, that she doesn’t know a damn thing.

Age has weakened her bones and loosened her skin, but she feels more alive than she can ever remember.

Family is a word she’s never quite been able to speak and one she’s accepted that she’ll never fully comprehend, but she doesn’t need to, it is found in the unquestioned trust of her niece and nephews, it is in the effortless familiarity of old friends, the lost loves she still thought of with fondness, her two brothers and their constant support, understanding and _love_ , the distant memories of a father flawed and broken, but who had tried his best in a world that demanded his worst, a warm haze and gentle laugh that sometimes swept over her with the breeze.

It’s all she ever wanted.

\---


	4. The Torments of War

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok I promise that after this one things will start getting lighter, it just happened that all the darker topics ~~or not dark topics that I just decided to make dark~~ were bunched up near the start of the week  
>  I really wish we'd gotten to see more tema/saku interaction in canon, they'd make great ~~girl~~ friends!  
> hope you enjoy!

\---

Day 4 - The Torments of War

\---

Tremors still rocked the ground every few minutes, she could feel them shuddering up her legs, even when relatively far from the battlefield itself.

Every time she felt one, she wondered how many had just died in the blast.

“Raise your arm,” the warm voice behind her commanded. Despite the jagged pain slicing across her shoulders and down her arms and even up her neck, she complied, teeth clenched, hidden behind her poker face. “Ok, try and it hold still for just a minute.”

A blessedly cool hand pressed firmly to her shoulder blade, at first sending a fresh flare of agony through torn muscle and ligament, before gentle waves of thrumming energy swept across her entire upper body, stealing away the pain as it went. She allowed a tiny sigh of relief, but kept her arm held out stiffly, until the comforting hand was pulled away from her skin.

Sakura’s movements were minimal and efficient as she circled around the camp-bed, her bright eyes narrowed in concentration as she pressed one hand just above her patient’s breast, the other absently helping to keep her arm held aloft.

She might’ve made a fuss at the perceived slight, but honestly she was hurting and frustrated and so, _so_ tired, so she held her tongue and just focused on the feeling of her muscles realigning at the girl’s touch.

It was better to focus on her surroundings; the low mummering voices filling the cramped tent, but with everyone’s’ voices so hushed, that it was barely intelligible to her keen ears, the constant, gentle humming of medical ninjutsu being performed by at least ten doctors at any one time, the flapping of the entrance as people limped in and hurried out, muffled sobbing leaking from under sheets and always, _always_ , the battle raging only a few miles away.

“Almost done,” Sakura muttered, her fingers digging in harder for a brief, awful moment, before finally pulling away carefully, shaking out her hands as she stepped back. “There, try a few gentle motions and stretches.”

Only slightly wary, Temari lowered her arm, before raising it back, slowly pushing it further up to point directly at the roof of the dingy tent, then straight in front, then behind, before finishing by circling her shoulders a few times, her arms dropping back into her lap. The raised eyebrow was enough of a question. “Nothing to report,” she said, voice sharp and to-the-point; the longer the war went on, the harder it was becoming to remember that there was any other way of speaking.

Sakura nodded, but still took hold of her arm and started carefully bending and twisting it for her. “You’re sure? No stiffness or discomfort at all?”

“I wouldn’t jeopardise my squad’s strength by letting myself go back in-field at anything less than peak health,” she said simply, though she humoured the younger girl’s examination – she knew exactly what kind of idiotic stunts green recruits could pull, she wasn’t going to begrudge Sakura her assurances, even though she felt them entirely unnecessary.

Another quake rocked the flimsy bed she was sitting on, the distant roar thundering through the tent like a great tsunami, before continuing on its path, leaving dreadful silence in its wake.

She let out a controlled breath.

That was a big one, and more powerful than anyone in her regiment should be capable of – perhaps the two Kage in the area, but they’d both left the battle a little before she did, taking the short moment of calm and reduction in the enemy forces, to rest and regain some of their strength.

Hopefully, news of her injury wouldn’t have reached Gaara yet; he’d only start worrying, possibly attempt to shield her from further battle, in his own subtle, unaware way. She couldn’t have that, even with his inhuman chakra levels, he’d been pushing himself too much, refusing to stop as long as he could still move. He needed to rest, knowing that his sister had everything covered, she’d be back out there soon and, until then, Shikamaru could handle things.

But, she should be out there right _now_ and she would’ve been, had she not had her arm nearly wrenched off, trying to protect a young Kumo-nin from a plummeting boulder.

The impact had put a nasty dent in her old battle fan and left her unable to breathe for the terrible fifteen minutes it took Shikamaru to stop flapping and get her on a stretcher back behind their front lines. Her entire upper body had been badly damaged – muscles ripped out of position, bones cracked, ribs pressing worryingly into her lungs – really, it was a miracle that Sakura had patched her up so swiftly; a matter of hours, rather than the days it should have taken.

After a few more seconds of prodding the medic pulled her life-giving hands away. “Alright, you’re physically well enough to go back out there, but I still think you should stay back for a little while longer, at least until your chakra has restored.”

She frowned, reaching to grab the baggy shirt that had at some point replaced the one she’d been stripped of upon entering – probably wise, given how much she’d been bleeding, but she hoped it hadn’t simply been discarded, there were still uses for such things. She hummed, as the heavy, rough material dropped over her body, “Only, _physically_ well enough?”

Sakura – only now letting the exhaustion show on her face, looking far older than her years – spoke with a voice heavy and dull, “Yes. Mentally? Not so much.”

“You’re a psychologist too now?”

Rubbing a hand across her eyes, she slumped down in the small space next to Temari. “No, but I’ve seen enough injuries by now, to know a reckless act when I see one,” she said, not with judgement, but with an empty acceptance, “look, I’m not going to tell you not to fight, I know that’s not an option, but you are an important part of your division, you hold too much responsibility to throw it away for one person.”

She listened with an open mind, but her hands were still fixing the clasps on her flak jacket with instinctual movements. “Part of my role is to protect those under me.”

“Not at the cost of your own life. Yes, if you can save someone, then you absolutely should, but right now we _need_ ninja like you, strategists, leaders, more than we need common soldiers, your skills aren’t easily replaced.” The girl, no, that was unfair, she was a woman now – they all were – was right, but still…

The face of a boy – young, scared, messy hair falling in front of his dark eyes, hands raised uselessly in front of him – flashed across her eyes.

“You probably didn’t notice,” Sakura said, leaning over to grab the headband folded neatly next to the cot, “but the one you saved came back with you, to make sure you got here safely, he was in tears the whole time.”

“Ah.”

She still held Temari’s headband in her lap, thumbs running idly over the cold, chipped metal. “It’s funny; when I first saw him, I swore it was Kankuro rushing in here, begging me to save his big sister.”

“Hm.”

Sighing, she relented and offered the blond her property back.

“Look just… be careful, please? I don’t want to be the one who has to tell them.”

It took her a long few moments to take it, but she tied it tightly over her brow with the same determination she used to face down an enemy. “Yeah,” she said, pushing herself to slightly unsteady feet, rocking for a brief second, before stepping forwards. She stopped at the open flap of the tent, turning back to stare down at the woman sitting on a rickety camp-bed, looking far too small, hunched up as she was. “…You take care too, alright?”

\---


	5. Finding Peace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn’t quite know what to do for this day at first, but this drabble was actually really relaxing to write? and it’s not even a little bit sad for once! (actual timeline doesn’t really matter in this one, but let’s say that tema is pushing 40 here)  
> Enjoy folks!

\---

Day 5 - Finding Peace

\---

The chill was just starting to sharpen the dry air, as the sun hovered on the fine edge between twilight and dusk, the entire sky fading from vivid golds and oranges at the horizon, to an even, soothing violet blue high above, the few scattered, wispy clouds painted shades of pastel pink and yellow.

Sunset in the desert was always a beautiful sight, even though it was easy to take it for granted when one saw it so often.

Still panting from her work out, Temari allowed herself to rest for a while, to enjoy the relative cool, before the sun truly set and the night would force her to either retreat back indoors, or resume her training to get warm blood pumping through her again. For the first time in as long as she could remember, both options seemed equally valid, and the idea of cutting her exercise short and going back home – even to do nothing more significant than relax and spend some time with her family – _didn’t_ fill her with the creeping guilt that had always been such a good friend of hers.

But, without any war, any tension between nations, with her home prospering and people happy, her family – messy and complex and unpredictable as it was – the tightest it’d ever been and her own mental health finally to a point she could tolerate… there really wasn’t anything tying her down anymore.

For once she didn’t have to dedicate her entire existence to only serving others, she could just… live.

Obviously she still had responsibilities, she was still an important part of Suna’s government, her family would always need the reassuring stability she provided, there were still missions and chores and general self-care, but those tasks were all reduced to the point that she could actually spend an evening sitting on the highest point of the cliffs surrounding the city and watch the sunset for as long as she liked, confident that her world wouldn’t fall apart before she got back to it.

She almost didn’t know what to do with that freedom, she was already happy enough, there wasn’t anything she felt like she was particularly missing out on.

Now that the world had settled into a peace that looked set to last for many generations to come, her career was satisfying in its challenge, _without_ causing the kind of stress that used to keep her awake long into the night.

She had many friends, both within Suna and outside of it, people who she could open up to, rely on and just enjoy the company of.

Her family was perfect as it was; her brothers, the two parts of her soul that she could not live without, the only people she would ever claim to truly _know_ ; her niece and nephews, loud and rambunctious and embarrassingly sweet with their love of their father, aunts and uncles; Baki, the man who’d somehow replaced the image of a man she’d both loved, hated, respected and feared, he was now the one she went to when she needed a heavy hand dropped onto her head and an honest reassurance of her worth; Matsuri, the little sister she’d always secretly wanted, who could make her feel better with just a smile and who loved her unofficial family with all her heart.

Perhaps her love life was a little lacking, but the few true loves she’d experienced in her busy life, were more than enough to satisfy her, and she didn’t feel the need to seek out any more.

A bitter chill stroked across her shoulders, the material of her tank top doing little to protect her from it. The sky was still light, but if she looked carefully, she could see the tiny pinpricks of light starting to dot the darkening blue behind her.

It was still a beautiful sky and she was sure the night would be beautiful too.

But, she didn’t feel like staying out to see it on this occasion, so – gathering up her discarded clothing and gear – she slowly made her way down the steep Sunagakure cliffs, already thinking of what was awaiting her at home.

Maybe tomorrow she could borrow some of Kankuro’s supplies when she came back here.

Painting sounded like it might be fun.

\---


	6. Bonds of Friendship

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really wanted to explore some of the less common tema friendships for this (I did wanna do karui, hina, shika, tenten and matsuri too, buuut I’ve had a long ass day at work today so had to just write what I could)  
> hope yall enjoy!

\---

Day 6 - Bonds of friendship

\---

“No way.”

“I promise it’s true!”

“You got any proof? Because I’m not gonna believe you until I see pictures.” Honestly, did Chouji really think he could pull a fast one on her?

He chuckled as he started digging through the pouch attached to his hip. “I’ve got more than just photos,” he said, and she could already feel her grin widening at where this was going. Finally pulling out the summoning scroll he’d been searching for, he rolled it out, made the necessary hand seals and waved away the puff of smoke that bloomed from it.

She felt her heart leap at the well-used video camera lying unassumingly on the paper. “Oh, oh please tell me this means what I think it does,” she breathed, desperate to grab the thing, but hesitant to break the spell of hope swelling within her.

“Yup,” Chouji said, grinning as he flicked out the small screen and started fiddling with buttons, “video evidence of baby Shikamaru dressed in a deer costume, frolicking through the woods.”

Her cheeks were already aching. “You sir, are a goddamned _hero_.”

\---

The soil here was different, wetter, richer, it felt more… _vital_ in her hands. But she still didn’t think she could ever grow to love it like the soil back home.

“There, done, did you have the bulbs ready?” she asked, turning away from the large pot – filled with dark, mushy compost, a wide, shallow well dug into the centre of it – and glancing at the head of long, blonde hair bent over a long tray of seedling morning glories.

There were other ways she’d prefer to be spending her time off, but she liked Ino well enough and her hands had been feeling antsy anyway, so helping the girl out in her shop would have to do.

“Yeah, just a sec,” Ino said, quickly putting down her watering can and wandering over, picking up a small bag on her way, “ok, we’re going to be planting some amarcrinum in here, they grow really well in this climate and-” She stopped dead, her hand still rummaging in the cloth, her expression went from annoyed to uncertain, in just under a second. “Ah, sorry, must’ve forgotten to tell you to dig a hole for it.”

She raised an eyebrow, as she stared between the shorter girl and the pot. “No, it’s right there.”

Ino hesitated, before her brows settled into a frown, her words came out as a sigh, “Not deep enough, these need to be buried about four inches down.”

Already taking the nearest trowel, she quickly dug away until the well was the desired depth.

Temari crossed her arms as she watched, subtly biting at her lip. She was actually a little embarrassed, she took so much pride in her knowledge – both in general and of gardening – it was stupid of her not to actually check she was doing it right first.

A hand grimy with dirt pulled one of her own away from her arm, she watched curiously as Ino dropped a single flaking, oblong bulb into her palm.

“I guess growing things in the desert is pretty different to growing things here, huh?” she said, a bright, disarming grin on her face. “Once we’re done with this, you should teach me a little about how you do things back home!”

\---

“Wow! What sort of building is that?” Lee’s exuberant voice had drawn more than a few stares, but instead of feeling annoyed by it, she just found herself smirking slightly.

“It’s one of Suna’s aviaries; a lot of people still use birds to hunt around here, but can’t house them personally, so we keep them here and the birds can be rented out whenever they’re needed,” she explained, pointing out the large cages jutting out of the octagonal structure.

Lee gasped. “Amazing! Do you think we could go inside?”

She chuckled and started heading towards the entrance. “Sure, though do try to keep your voice down, the birds can be a bit skittish.”

“Oh, of course, sorry,” he whispered, though there was a definite bounce in his step as they walked through the heavy stone doors.

Despite his constant, pestering questions and loud, booming way of asking them, she found herself quite fond of him; his genuine curiosity and earnest joy were just so refreshing to an eternal cynic such as herself.

\---

She grunted, putting all of her strength into resisting the push, but she could feel herself faltering, ever-so-slightly.

Sakura’s eyes were wide and wild as she kept her focus fixed on her opponent, but her smile was stretching to both ears and her breathless laughs made it clear how much enjoyment she was getting out of this.

They were both panting and sweaty at this point, but she was of the exact same mind as her opponent, grinning as she pushed her hair out of her eyes.

“Breathing’s getting a little heavy there, huh petal,” she said, her voice oozing as much self-assurance as possible when she had so little breath left to give.

Sakura snorted, shifting in her seat. “Not at all. I can keep this up all day.”

She chuckled, ignoring the strain stabbing up through her arm, in favour of pushing her fist a little further. They’d been at this deadlock for about fifteen minutes now and what had once been a passionately cheering crowd, was now sitting in rapt, horrified silence, as their locked hands wavered back and forth, back and forth, neither side ever _quite_ looking set to claim victory.

“I bet you’d just _love_ to use some of that chakra of yours right now, it’d make it _so_ easy to win.”

Gritting her teeth, Sakura’s bicep quivered as she struggled against Temari’s unrelenting pressure. “A deal’s a deal, no chakra, just muscle,” she muttered, eye closing against the bead of sweat dripping down into it.

Had she not been so insistent on that rule, she would’ve won ten times already.

The crowd leaning in was practically tangible, as the tide shifted in the pink-haired girl’s favour. She pushed their hands back to centre, but she knew that she’d have to end this _fast_ , if she wanted to win.

Subtly planting her feet a little firmer to the ground, disguised as casual shifting, she prepared herself to make her final push.

She’d barely registered the feel of hard wood crashing against the back of her hand, before the silence was shattered by a dozen screaming voices, the gathered group of friends – and a few curious passers-by – all jumping and clapping and shaking the shoulders of the two combatants.

Temari blinked, staring at her hand, still trapped beneath Sakura’s, her arm bent back awkwardly.

Even dazed and exhausted as she was, she was at least graceful in defeat.

Pulling their still-locked fists up, she gave Sakura a single stiff handshake. “Well, good performance,” she said, tightening her grip to a probably uncomfortable level for a brief second, as she pulled the girl in closer, just enough to whisper in her ear, “but next time, you’re going down.”

\---


	7. AU Setting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> au day, so there were loads of things I could’ve done.. buuut I went with eVERYBODY IS HAPPY AND NOTHING BAD HAPPENED EVER au, bc I just need to write something super fluffy and sappy tbh, it’s not got much going on, but it’s sweet so I’m happy with it  
> thanks to the organisers of this week, it was a lot of fun, hopefully there’ll be more in the future I can get in on!  
> Enjoy!

\---

Day 7 - Temari AU

\---

She winced slightly as her hair was tugged through the tight loop, but the fingers gently loosening the band quickly soothed the pain.

Her mother patted her head and leaned back behind her. “All finished,” she said, smiling at her through the small, circular mirror of her dresser, “what do you think?”

Temari carefully balanced her arms on the table – her mother automatically pressing steadying hands to her waist – as she twisted her head from side to side, examining her hair from every angle. It’d been impossible to tie her hair into a single high ponytail, as she’d wanted, it was just too thick and wild to ever stay in place, but much experimenting had finally found something that worked; four short, spiky ponytails, sticking out from her head in every direction, framing her face like big yellow flowers.

“I love it!” Grinning, she turned around on her mother’s lap, inadvertently smacking her in the face with her new hairstyle.

The woman snorted, gently tugging on the topmost ponytails once her daughter was fully facing her. “I’m glad, you’ll need to watch how you turn though,” she said, “or we might have to just cut it all off!” Her words were scary, but her eyes were kind, as she pulled the girl’s head closer to press a quick kiss to her forehead.

She gave her biggest frown, puffing her cheeks out wide. “I’ll be careful, promise.”

“Good; now then, you should go find your brothers, I’m sure they’re bored without you,” with that said, she lifted the small body off her lap and deposited it on the floor.

With her mother waving her away, she charged from her parent’s bedroom, shouting a quick apology as she almost crashed into her dad in the hall just outside, but she didn’t want to stay long enough to get a lecture, so she kept to her goal of tracking down her two younger brothers.

Their house was large and maze-like, so finding anyone was always a challenge, but she’d last seen them in the kitchen eating breakfast, Kankuro ate fast, so he probably already went back to the living room where all his toys were kept, Gaara ate really slow, so – even though it’d taken a long while to figure out a way of keeping her unruly hair out of her face – he was probably still at the table now.

Unfortunately, Kankuro got really bored when he was alone, so he’d probably-

“Temariii!” The wail gave her plenty of warning, as a light weight barrelled into her stomach; only _nearly_ knocking her over.

She tried to look into Gaara’s face, maybe calm him down a little, but he was apparently determined to keep it firmly attached to her shirt. Groaning loudly, she patted his soft, red hair, glowering at her other brother the second he peeked his head around the corner. “What did you do?” she demanded in her scariest Big Sister voice.

“Nothing!” He gave his most innocent pout. It didn’t help at all.

“Gaara,” she said softly, carefully pulling him away so that she could crouch down to look him in the eye – he didn’t meet her gaze, but she wasn’t expecting him to – “what happened?”

Rubbing tiny fists against his chubby cheeks, he managed to force out a few words, “T-threw a pu-puppet at me.”

Kankuro immediately grimaced, finally appearing from around the corner, a small wooden figurine clutched in his hands. “I didn’t _mean_ to,” he said, having the grace to look at least a little guilty, “I was trying to make it fly like Granny Chiyo does, but I didn’t do it right.”

She sighed, her brother meant well – usually – but he could be so _clumsy_ sometimes.

“Did you apologise yet?” she asked, rolling her eyes when he just shook his head. “Then hurry up and do it already.”

Dragging himself over to his siblings, he awkwardly held his puppet out, one of its skinny stick arms raised. “Sorry for hitting you,” he mumbled, though his entire face quickly lightened when Gaara carefully took the puppets hand in his and gave it a quick shake.

“’nk you.”

Everything finally resolved, she patted both of her brothers on the head, grinning down at the pair. “Great, so, how about we go and play outside now? I can show you a new ball game I learned!”

Kankuro was practically already out the door, dragging his baby brother behind him, she was almost worried that he wouldn’t be able to keep up, but he was giggling softly, so she stayed behind just long enough to collect the ball her brothers had forgotten in their excitement.

Just before she stepped into the bright, hot sunshine, a small cough made her turn back.

Her father wasn’t quite smiling, but his voice was low and soft when he said, “You did well calming them down.”

Warmth greater than any desert afternoon flooded through her; she grinned and nodded.

“Be careful not to stay out too long though,” he said, giving one of his usual stern looks. She nodded again and rushed over to give him a quick hug, before picking up the ball once more and heading out the door.

“Ah…” she glanced back again to see her father shuffling in the doorway, hand holding it open.

When a few seconds passed without him saying anything, she decided to take the initiative instead. “Yeah?”

He gave her one of his rare, tiny smiles. “Your hair looks very pretty.”

\---

**Author's Note:**

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